


Precious Thing

by AuthorMAGrant



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Jareth has a lot of work to do, goblin antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 03:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12379872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorMAGrant/pseuds/AuthorMAGrant
Summary: Many think they know the story of Sarah's triumph over Jareth the Goblin King. She conquered his Labyrinth, resisted temptation, and won freedom for herself and her brother. But the truth is far more complicated. The truth is that Sarah lost.In doing so, Sarah ensured Jareth's eternal servitude to her every whim. Too bad she wished to forget everything about him. Forced to obey, he spends long years in exile from her, until her little brother summons him for help.Sarah's gone missing and Jareth is the only one who can find her. He may even be able to remind her of what they once had, that precious thing that's kept them bound after all these years. It's the Goblin King's last chance and he'll need all his wits if he intends to win back the love of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

Humans forgot many things. It was one of the reasons they were so fun to play with. Move their car keys, take a sock from the laundry, misplace a bill, and step back and enjoy. His goblins loved slipping outside the boundaries of his kingdom to sow chaos and he, ever the indulgent ruler, granted them that freedom. He too was amused by humanity's ebb and flow, its ridiculous and petty obsessions.

But sometimes humans forgot that which should not be so lightly cast aside. Jareth the Goblin King knew that with painful intimacy.

He had offered her the words, words he had never offered to another before or since. _Just fear me. Love me. Do as I say and I will be your slave._

Words were powerful. Words were binding. And had she not obeyed him with blind devotion?

In those final moments slipping by on the clock, had she not felt the terror of losing her brother to him? The temptation of staying with him, lost in the fantasy world she did not yet know she craved?

She believed she had won. In reality, her loss is what sealed his fate. His own oath turned back on him. Trapping him in this hell where he must obey every wish she made.

Nights like this, when his goblins crowded round his throne, sleeping together in heaps of fur and scale and mismatched armor, he cursed his past weakness. All those years ago in his loneliness, he had taken to the sky on white wing, flitting in and out of the busy, short-lived rabble of humanity. He had stopped to rest on a tree branch outside the window of an average house on an average street.

The girl inside was anything but. Her pain caught his attention. Her passion held it. Unlike other mortals, she blazed with life. He watched her the rest of the night, until she turned off the lights and fell asleep. The book was a present to her, a token of appreciation for the night of distraction she had granted him.

Her fascination with it was flattering. Her desire to memorize it bound them before he knew what had transpired. A foolish, ill-planned gift. Too soon, its words were prophetic.

_But what no one knew was this: the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with her, and given her certain powers._

Oh, he had fallen as only a king could. He offered up his kingdom for her delight, helped her become the heroine she'd always dreamed of being, and even held true to his word after all these years. When her father and stepmother died, leaving her responsible for her young brother, he sent his goblins to aid her.

It went against their very nature to cook and clean, to organize and make life generally pleasant. They would return at night bathed in the stench of laundry soap, carrying filthy sponges, and powdered in a fine layer of dust from the vacuum Jareth decreed they would empty after every use. Occasionally, he'd allow them to take trinkets as payment: paperclips, magnets, rubber bands that often had to be confiscated, and wrapped sticks of bubble gum which always made obscene messes throughout the many rooms of the castle. They complained mightily whenever they thought he was listening, and reveled in their sneaky success when they thought he had passed.

Yes, even his goblins had fallen under her spell.

She wasn't his queen, yet his subjects failed over and over in any tiny attempt to be useful to her. The truth was, after a few months, Jareth did not need to order his goblins to help or to act differently. They, like him, behaved so in the hope that a smile may someday return to her lips.

Sometimes it did. Some nights, after she tucked Toby into bed she would take the worn, red book from his room with her, sitting in her own bed and skimming the familiar pages. The corners of her mouth would turn up at the mention of his name and the heart he thought had stopped beating millennia ago would clench painfully in his chest. But she never called for him, never wished him to come. She had learned her lesson and understood the power of a wish.

As the boy grew, she read him the story less and less. He could read most things on his own by now and she was exhausted from living up to the world's expectations.

Jareth railed at the injustice, lashing out in his anger by kicking at his goblins, the black chickens that infested the palace, even his crystals, although they always managed to roll out of range at the last moment. _His_ Sarah, a common servant slaving away in a restaurant while she attended acting classes.

She was better than that. She deserved a life full of happiness. She deserved to live as he did, with no regrets, none of the pitiful _what-ifs_ that seemed to plague humankind. He never expected that he may be considered one of her mistakes.

Now, years later, he could admit that her betrayal made sense.

She banished him after yet another failed audition. The evening had started with such promise. He watched her from the balcony of the run-down theater as she took her place on stage.

She was more beautiful than ever, with skin nearly as pale as his, thick, dark hair plaited to reveal her delicate face to the lights, and a figure that would make her the envy of any of the women who had attended that fateful masquerade ball.

Her delivery was impeccable, her voice masterful. Before his eyes, she transformed into Tatiana, queen of the fairies.

His Sarah, a queen at last.

Too bad the director couldn't see it. He let Sarah go.

Jareth found her crying in the shadows behind the theater. She dashed the tears from her cheeks as she walked to her car. He hadn't meant for her to see him. His reflection in the window was a mistake.

She spun, searching the lot for him, but he had already slipped back into the shadows.

"You're out there, aren't you?" she called.

He couldn't answer. Not after all those years.

"I know it's you. You're always watching over me."

He always would.

"Afraid to speak to me, your majesty? Goblin got your tongue?" she teased.

When his silence held, she sighed and rested her forehead against her car door. "I'm losing my mind. It was just a dream, Sarah. _He_ was just a dream."

That had hurt. What they had shared was more than a dream. Someday, if he was patient enough, she would see that this mundane world she inhabited was the phantasm and his kingdom— _their_ kingdom—was the place she belonged.

He just needed to wait.

Even that far from her, the mocking rhyme she whispered in her frustration was heard perfectly. Her words cut so deeply his soul began to bleed.

"Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be, I wish I could forget the thought of you and me.”

He was her slave. So he granted her wish. Every memory of him, every moment they had shared in the Labyrinth gone, brushed aside as the vivid dreams of a girl who had read a book one too many times.

She pulled herself together, got in her car, and returned home.

He returned to his kingdom, broken. There he stayed. Days passed into months, months crawled into years, time continuing its inexorable journey forward. His powers waned in his grief, fell dormant, and his kingdom settled into the same torpor.

It was the anniversary of her wish. His fourth year of exile.

Under the moon's pale glow, he sat in his throne, tapping his boot with a riding crop he’d taken from one of his goblins. The creature had whipped the castle's chickens into a frenzy of molting feathers and shrill squawks before its ruler had stepped in and ended the reign of terror. Jareth was still the king after all.

Outside his window, the Goblin City stretched out in all its ramshackle glory, beckoning for him to take up his mantle once more. He hadn’t bogged anyone in months. He hadn’t even wandered to the outermost wall to check on the fairy infestation. He wanted to mope a little longer, celebrate the upcoming day in a manner which suited his melodramatic sensibilities.

But tonight, of all nights, the King of the Goblins had become restless.

“Bored, bored, bored," he muttered.

One of the rabble at the base of his throne whimpered in its sleep. He eyed it, idly poked at it with the crop, and smiled as it settled back into whatever strange dreams it had surfaced from.

Tap, tap, tap. "I should visit Hogbrain. It's been far too long since I've threatened him."

The larger pile of goblins in the nearby pit shuddered. Yellow eyes opened. An electric tingle caressed the back of his neck, making him pause.

Across the divide, a voice implored, "I wish..."

"What?" one of the goblins asked, scratching its ear.

"Shhh!" ordered another, lifting its helmet so it could peer out into the shadows, as if it expected the speaker to appear there. "He's going to say it!"

_He?_ Jareth straightened in his throne, riding crop dangling from his fingers, attention focused on the words that echoed sibilantly through the Goblin City.

“I wish…”

"Who's going to say what?" came a muffled voice from deep in the pile.

Its question was answered with a flurry of kicks, pinches, and threats to keep silent. The goblins noticed their king’s liveliness and watched him with bated breath.

Jareth wondered where he’d heard that voice before.

"I wish the Goblin King would visit me..." The voice trembled, then strengthened. " _Right now._ "


	2. Chapter 2

Toby held his breath and clutched the pillow to his chest. His favorite book lay open on his bed, turned to the page he'd memorized all those years ago, the passage he had never dared to test until now. He was eight, more than old enough to summon the Goblin King, and he was desperate.

Outside the apartment window, the wind howled. Rain slammed into the glass and lightning split the sky with streaks that blinded him.

Something scuttled in the corner of his room. He jerked and glanced toward the movement, but saw nothing but shadow.

"He'll come," Toby promised himself. "He always keeps his promises."

Another flash of lightning. This time, over the wind, he could hear something beating against his window. Cautiously, he rose and crept toward it.

A large, pale barn owl clung to the window sill. Toby gaped at it, wondering why it was out in such a storm. Sarah loved barn owls; she would probably want to help it.

It stared balefully at him and for a second he wondered if he should let it in. Normally, he'd ask Sarah, but—

He jumped as his blanket flew off the bed and scurried across the floor. Strange, maniacal giggles chimed throughout the room.

"He's coming," a voice whispered. "He's coming!"

"Who's coming?" Toby asked, afraid of the answer.

The shattering of glass made him duck, covering the back of his head with his hands like he'd been taught in school. The storm's intensity peaked—

Silence.

Toby peeked up and saw the tall shadow on the wall facing him. He noticed the cautious yellow eyes peeking out from under his bed, the drawers of his dresser, the crack where his closet door hadn't closed.

A wide grin grew on his chubby face. "You came."

He stood and turned to face the miraculously not-broken window. A man waited there, arms crossed over his chest, cloak draped artfully over his wicked armor. A memory stirred somewhere in the back of Toby's mind, a memory of music and laughter and joy.

The man's shrewd gaze was that of the owl's. "You remind me of the babe."

Toby couldn't help asking, "What babe?"

The man's mouth opened, but he didn't speak. Instead, he waved his hand in irritation. "It no longer matters."

He stalked into the room, midnight-blue fabric billowing behind him with a shower of starlight. The nearest yellow eyes blinked out as he passed. But the man—the Goblin King—didn't notice any of them. His attention was fixed on the book that lay open on the bed.

"You summoned me," he said, reaching out and drifting a finger reverently over the page. "Why?"

"I need your help."

The Goblin King peered over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised and his mouth twisted. " _My_ help? Why would I ever help a silly little tyke like you?"

For the first time since his plan had worked, Toby felt a hint of fear. Sarah had always warned him that the king changed his moods more than his clothes, but Toby hadn't imagined that would prevent his help.

"My...my..."

"Your, your," the king mocked. "Goblin got your tongue?"

He chuckled at his own joke. When no one else joined him, he glared into the shadows. "Well? Laugh."

The little creatures hidden throughout the room cackled. The Goblin King swept his cloak to the side and draped himself over the small bed Toby slept in. He lifted the book, flipping through the pages, intensity growing as he read, seemingly ignoring everything else in the room.

Toby couldn't give up. Not now.

"Will you help me?" he asked.

The book snapped shut. "Where did you get this book?"

Toby recognized his tone. It was the same voice his teachers used when they asked him if drawing pictures of Sir Didymus and Ludo and Hoggle was the best use of his class time. No matter what he answered, it wouldn't be right.

"Please," Toby begged. "Will you please help me?"

The deep sigh that left the king was pure theatricality. Sarah would have laughed and told him to stop overacting. "Since you cannot seem to move past the point, why exactly do you need my help?"

"My sister's missing."

"Your sister?" He shrugged. "I have no time to search for missing sisters. I have a kingdom to run."

Toby was patient. He'd practiced the skill for years, making sure Sarah never felt like she wasn't doing enough for him. But the thought that she may not come back was too frightening for him to wait for the King of the Goblins to change his fickle mind. He ran to the art desk Sarah had set up for him in the living room, digging around until he found what he needed.

He hurried back to the bedroom, newspaper clipping fluttering in his hand. "I need to find her. She should have been back by now. Mrs. Schlepp from Apartment 8 already fed me dinner and made sure I took my bath. Sarah should be back–"

"Sarah?"

The clipping vanished from his hand, reappearing in the Goblin King's fingers. He stared at the black and white photo with such fierceness that Toby wondered if maybe he had seen her before. Hope seized him. "You know her?"

"Yes." The word was a hiss, so low it verged on pain. "I did. Many years ago."

"She had an audition." Toby beamed at the Goblin King, who no longer ignored him. "She had to leave work early to drive there."

 “She is still an actress?”

Toby nodded. “She’s really good. She even uses different voices when she reads me stories.”

It was strange to see a softness in the king’s smile. “Does she still use that ridiculous goblin voice?”

Toby giggled. “It makes her sound like an old lady.”

The King shook his head and glanced sympathetically at a particularly furry, filthy goblin who had crawled onto the bed and begun ripping the stuffing out of a misshapen toy bear. “She never could get it right,” he lamented.

 “No, Master. Never got it right,” the goblin agreed, in a voice quite different than that of the missing actress.

 “Where was the audition?”

Toby’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to remember. “Harriman,” he finally said.

"I will find her." The king breezed up off the bed and gestured at the room. "Watch over the babe," he ordered his goblins.

And he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

She was cold and everything ached. Literally, everything.

Sarah groaned. She immediately wish she hadn’t. The sharp pain that came when she took a breath left her dizzy. Once her stomach settled, she forced herself to open her eyes.

Her windshield was shattered, so riddled with cracks that it was impossible to see out. She blinked, wishing her head would stop feeling so wobbly, and examined the mass of cream-colored fabric that had spewed from the steering wheel.

Oh, the airbag. That wasn’t good.

She breathed in again, crying out weakly when her ribs protested. Her shoulder added to the chorus of complaints. She fumbled at the seat belt buckle with her right hand, but the button stuck.

_What had happened?_

Gradually she noticed the drumming of rain pelting the car. Thunder rumbled, barely audible over the raging of the wind and creaking of the trees.

_Trees_ …

The haze in her mind clarified. She’d been driving home from an audition for another part she almost got. The windshield wipers flew, desperately attempting to keep up with the torrential downpour and nearly failing. She didn’t have a choice though. She had to get home for Toby.

She came around a curve cautiously, which was good, because a huge tree lay across the road. Those split-seconds slammed through her again, adrenaline surging at the memory.

Jerking the wheel so she didn’t slam into the tree. Her car avoiding it, but slipping on the road. The slide toward the edge. The sudden tumble, like she was falling down a huge hole, her descent slowed by the trees— _or were they hands? Helping hands?_ —and a final, brutal jerk.

That tiny whisper at the back of her mind wasn’t leaving. _Helping hands_. Why had she thought of that? And why could she imagine the sensation of their grip on her skin?

Sarah shook her head, but stopped when it made the world spin. She needed to get out of the car. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t know if it was safe. The rain streaming down on her from the broken rear windshield meant she was facing down the hill. She wasn’t willing to risk the car’s continued descent with her still strapped inside.

She jiggled the seat belt again, but still couldn’t get the release to work. She had a pocket knife in her purse. Maybe she could cut herself free. Once she was out of the car, she’d be able to use her cell phone to call for help. Taking shallow breaths that kept the shooting pain in her ribs to a minimum, she reached toward the strap of her purse on the passenger-side floor.

It was torture. Each half inch her fingers crept closer stretched her injured side. Years ago, she would have been paralyzed by the pain, lamenting how unfair her life was to whomever was or wasn’t listening.

Now she had a basis for comparison, and in the grand scheme of things, this was only pain. Pain could be ignored, compartmentalized, eventually forgotten. Pain was comparative.

Not getting home to Toby would hurt more than reaching that damn purse strap.

Fuzzy darkness gathered on the edges of her vision. Her fingertips brushed against the leather. She gritted her teeth, sucked in one final lungful of air, and grabbed for the strap.

It wilted under her fingers’ movement, falling out of her reach.

She screamed in frustration and gave up. The combo of dizziness and nausea that came when she settled back into the seat made her want to throw up. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe steadily, and let herself enjoy the sensation of the cool rain water on her skin. _Find the positive in the little things_ , her therapist had said all those years ago. _Allow yourself to return to those memories that made you happiest._

Her lips curved into a guilty smile as she whispered, “Once upon a time there was a beautiful young woman whose own stupidity got her into a dangerous situation. Desperate to return home to her younger brother, she tried everything in her power to escape and failed. But what no one knew was this–”

A sharp rapping on her window made her jerk.

Her vision dimmed and she gasped when the pain roared back to life. It took a few breaths before she could turn her head. Someone was outside her window. Her driver’s door shuddered as it was tugged on. She wondered if its lock had been damaged too.

Apparently not, because the door swung open a moment later. Mismatched blue eyes held hers and everything stopped. Her hearing. Her breathing. Her heartbeat.

Her world fell down.

 “What have you done, precious?” the man chided. His voice was seductive music and, as if he had plucked her heartstring, something deep down resonated in perfect harmony.

 “I...crashed…”

He smirked and settled his weight back on his heels, crouching as he examined the state of her car. Of her. “Obviously.”

The car creaked and her stomach dropped when she felt it shift a little. “Please,” she whispered, “help me?”

 “I am your slave,” he murmured. He moved closer, invading her personal space, close enough that she could feel his heat, but not making actual contact with her. He smelled of clouds and heated cinnamon and cloves and something else, something wilder—

 “Focus, Sarah,” he whispered.

She swallowed, wondering how he knew her name. “The seat belt’s stuck.”

He frowned at that. He reached for it and she wished that he might accidentally touch her. He didn’t. Instead, his hand closed around the buckle and it came free.

She had to adjust when that resistance vanished. She whimpered and fought for consciousness. A hand pressed gently against her shoulder, holding her in place so she could try to relax.

 “You’re injured.” She must have imagined the anger threading through those words.

 “My ribs.”

 “You will need a physician,” he told her.

 “I need my purse. My phone–”

Metal groaned and Sarah shut her eyes tightly when the car crept forward a little more.

 “I believe that is our signal to leave,” the man said.

One second she was sitting in the car. The next, she was watching her car continue its descent down the hillside, minus her body and the purse that dangled from her rescuer’s long fingers.

She pulled back from him. “How’d you do tha–?”

Well, attempted to pull back. A stupid move. Because the world suddenly shrunk to the sound of blood pounding in her ears and the obsessive need to watch those beautiful eyes widen as she slipped into the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

She dreamed of goblins chasing chickens. She woke when the chickens’ noises of distress were replaced with soft, consistent beeps.

The pain was manageable, even when she tried to look around her hospital room. She needed to see if her mysterious rescuer was still there.

 “He’s not here.”

The low, accented voice sent her heart fluttering. Her monitors copied it, giving away her reaction. There, in the dark corner of the room near the window, the man lounged in an uncomfortable hospital chair.

 “Your baby brother,” the man clarified. “Mrs. Schlepp brought him to see you. She took him home an hour ago.”

 “How long have I been out?”

He shrugged, a graceful, lithe movement. “For a time.”

 “How long?” The steel in her words didn’t faze him. She had no reason to explain her need to know that detail. Time was precious. When she was a teenager, she’d developed a need to track it, to constantly be aware of it. Toby had often said she would make a great alarm clock.

 “Thirteen hours,” the man said. His mouth quirked at the corner and he added, “And four minutes, if you must know.”

They watched each other, wary and strangely comfortable at the same time. He was handsome. More than handsome. Painfully beautiful. Ethereal.

Long, shaggy, blonde hair framed a delicate, finely-boned face. Pale skin, thin lips, arched brows that even now raised in faint mockery of her inspection. He was dressed like many of the college boys she knew. A worn white shirt and navy vest, skinny dark grey trousers, and black boots that looked like something the lead singer of a punk band would wear if he went horseback riding. The only difference was the pair of leather driving gloves that looked like a second-skin on his hands.

Her attention was distracted by a length of dark leather cord at his neck. Her eyes followed the cord down to a silver, sickle-shaped pendant that hung heavy against his chest. She’d seen that same design before...somewhere…

_Focus, Sarah._

She relaxed, settling back against the pillows. “You’re the one who found me?”

His head tilted in assent.

 “What’s your name?”

 “Jareth.”

Since her father and stepmother’s deaths, Sarah had always felt like a little piece of her was missing. But the moment her rescuer said his name, that blank space she’d refused to examine too closely melted away.

 “Jareth…”

His fingers tapped the arm of his chair. She wondered if he was bored.

 “Thank you for helping me,” she said, meaning it with every fiber of her being. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.”

The wave of his hand was flippant, practiced. “Of course. I _can_ be generous, Sarah.”

 “Why are you still here? Isn’t it past visiting hours?”

 “Should I leave, pet?”

 “I didn’t say that–” She flushed when the words slipped out.

His smirk was pure mischief and masculine pleasure. “Then what should we do together?”

Without meaning to, her eyes drifted south. He froze, an expression of shock on his face. Then he tilted his head back and laughed. It was a sound of artless joy. She hadn’t felt an emotion so light in such a long time that she was surprised she could still recognize it. Her cheeks blazed.

He stood and swaggered across the room. Again, her heart sped up when he leaned down at the edge of her bed. A finger traced the site of the catheter in her hand. “I prefer you this way, Sarah. Freedom suits you. And I appreciate its easing of your positively prudish mores.”

 “I’m not a prude,” she protested.

The earlier smirk grew into a mocking smile. “You’re the sort of woman who could make a king fall in love with her after a single dance, only to turn around and spurn him on a whim.”

_How could he know about that dream?_

 “No one falls in love after a single dance,” she argued.

“Oh, Sarah, you _are_ cruel. Have you grown so jaded in my absence?”

 “I’ve never seen you before!”

 “What a pity,” he murmured, taking a seat in the chair beside her bed.

That phrase bothered her. She’d heard it before—not like she could remember where—and it had bothered her then too. It was a mixture of genuine pity and amusement and it grated.

 “I’m pretty positive I’d remember that meeting,” she said. “I don’t know how I could ever forget you.”

Something flitted through his eyes. If she hadn’t seen how quickly his face returned to its normal, faintly mocking expression, she would have almost believed it was...pain.

 “It’s late,” he said, abruptly changing the subject. “You should get some sleep.”

 “What about you?” she asked, ignoring the one, slightly sane voice in her head that was wondering why she hadn’t called for security yet.

 “I have some business to attend to. Calls to make, underlings to threaten.” He settled back more comfortably in the chair. “I will be here when you wake up.”

The promise shouldn’t have mattered. But once he spoke those words, she felt herself slipping off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Toby barely survived the school day. He was eager to return to the hospital to see Sarah. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t equally eager to see if the Goblin King had hung around or not, but the sight of Sarah asleep in the hospital bed last night had terrified him and put his priorities straight.

Mrs. Schlepp hadn’t questioned the king’s presence in Sarah’s room. In fact, it was almost like her eyes slid over him, recognizing he was there but unable to hold their attention on him. She’d gone down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee while Toby stood at Sarah’s bedside, afraid to touch her and cause her pain.

 “You won’t hurt her,” the king told him.

 “Are you sure?”

 “I ensured that she was able to rest comfortably.”

The Goblin King’s voice may have sounded dismissive, but Toby noticed the way he looked at Sarah. Brushed his fingers over hers like he was afraid she’d wake up and notice. The words of the story popped into Toby’s head.

 “Can the King of the Goblins fall in love?” he asked in a breathless rush.

Keen eyes held his. “What does your book say?”

Toby gaped. “But–?”

He looked at Sarah, then back at the king. An elegant eyebrow rose, but the king remained silent.

 “Oh,” Toby whispered.

He’d left it at that. Probably not the best way to react to earth-shattering news, but he needed more time to process it. Regardless, that knowledge was why now, rushing into Sarah’s room after school finally got out, he wasn’t at all surprised to find the King of the Goblins lounging in a chair by her bedside, a wicked smile on his face like he had just finished sharing a private joke.

What Toby hadn’t expected was Sarah not noticing his arrival. For a breath, he saw the tableau. Her hand stretched out on the cover toward the king’s black-gloved hand, mere inches separating their fingers. The gentle tilt of her head toward him. The wide, unguarded smile gracing her lips. The sunlight glinting through the window onto her dark hair, the motes in the air dancing and twinkling around her like glitter.

His sister was beautiful. And at that moment, she looked like a queen.

The ragged gulp of air he dragged into his lungs broke the spell. Sarah looked away from the king and her expression shifted into that almost-motherly look of concern she so often directed his way. “Toby!”

 “Hi,” he said, sheepishly shooting an apologetic glance at the monarch, whose mouth twisted in a dismissive moue. “How are you feeling?”

 “Pretty good for being in a car wreck,” she said, patting the empty spot next to her on the bed. He carefully crawled up beside her.

It was hard to keep from crying when she wrapped her arm around his shoulders and squeezed him more tightly to her. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he told her, trying to swallow down his tears.

He was grateful when the Goblin King rose and moved toward the window, giving them some privacy. He opened his mouth to tell Sarah how scared he’d been and the wish he’d made, but when he looked up, he saw her staring at the king.

 “Are you looking at his _butt_?” Toby whispered in horror.

He’d never seen Sarah blush before, not even when guys at restaurants or grocery stores hit on her. His words made her turn deep red though. She scowled at him and play-pinched his arm.

 “Shut up,” she ordered.

It was too late. “Shall I accidentally drop something on the floor?” the king drawled. He must have used magic to make Sarah turn even redder.

 “What’d you do in school today?” she asked Toby in a rush, deliberately looking away from the man at the window.

 “Not much. We talked about math and science. And we got to write stories today,” he added excitedly. “I wrote about Ludo!”

 “Again?” Sarah groaned. “How many stories could you possibly have left about the Labyrinth?”

 “A lot! All of the ones you told me that aren’t in the book. And I’ve thought of some new ones too! About goblins and marshmallows and microwaves–”

The King of the Goblins turned and Toby shut his mouth. He and the goblins had had a wonderful night together while waiting for the king to find Sarah. They taught him how to dye clothes with a single red sock and how to properly chase a chicken. Later, he introduced them to marshmallows and taught them how to use the microwave. It had taken them all several hours to clean up the mess that naturally followed. He didn’t want them to get in trouble for goofing off when they were supposed to be working though.

 “Anyway,” he said, hoping to distract the king, “I have a bunch of new stories. And Mr. Gibson said he liked the one I wrote today.”

 “That’s wonderful.” Sarah beamed at him and brushed her fingers over his short hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

 “I have to finish it for homework.” An idea struck. “Would you read me _The Labyrinth_ so I can remember everything?”

 “You have that thing memorized,” Sarah said with amusement. “You don’t need me to read it to you.”

 “Please?”

He reached down to the side of his bed for his backpack, digging around until he could pull out the thin, red book. He handed it to Sarah. She stared at the cover, fingers tracing the gilt lettering.

 “I don’t know, Toby,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I’m up for reading this one again…”

 “Allow me.” The king plucked the book from Sarah’s hand and sat back down in the chair. He lifted his booted feet, resting them on Sarah’s opposite side, and winked at Toby. Even if she had been feeling good enough to try to escape, she was now trapped by them.

Toby grinned back and settled more comfortably against her side. “Awesome,” he whispered, as the King of the Goblins began to read in a melodic baritone.


	6. Chapter 6

The boy—Toby—fell asleep mere pages into the book. Jareth wasn’t surprised. His goblins had reported back about their previous night’s antics. After hearing all they had done, he was amazed the boy had managed to stay awake at all through the school day. He’d checked on him with a crystal while Sarah slept. He was pleased to note that his original deductions about the child proved accurate; the boy was intelligent, quick to understand jokes, and seemingly bored by the idiots who surrounded him. He would be a wonderful addition to the populace of the Goblin City, even if he remained in his mortal form.

His concern for the boy wouldn’t distract him from his true purpose. Toby had presented him with a gift, an opportunity to reclaim the woman who had slipped out of his grasp. Whether the gift was intentional or not, he would not forget the boy’s kindness in giving it to him.

Sarah listened as he read her the story. Their story. She laughed at the jokes, frowned at the petty cruelties they had inflicted on one another, held her breath when they danced. And when he read her his promises, his desperate entreaties, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

She slipped away from him as he finished the story, her mind somewhere else, somewhere far away from him. It was like losing her all over again.

The sun was sinking below the horizon when he finished. He closed the book and set it on the nightstand, glad the torture was over. How could he have been so young and arrogant as to write the words of his defeat onto those pages and not expect them to come true?

He pressed his hands together in front of his mouth, fingers steepled, and wondered if this was the moment he had hoped for. The opportunity to say goodbye and move on. Return to his kingdom a better, wiser, less pathetic ruler.

Sarah made a noise and he glanced at her. She still wouldn’t look at him. But she wasn’t completely still, as she had been in those last chapters. Now, she idly pulled at a loose string of her blanket, lips pursed in thought. "It's funny..."

"What, precious?"

"This story..." She laughed at herself, shaking her head a little.

"What about the story?"

"It feels so real." Her eyes met his, searched them, saw something there. "It shouldn’t feel that way, right?"

"Why not?”

She shifted and readjusted her sleeping brother. “Because this is reality.”

 “Reality is simply a construct,” he argued. “You have the ability to make your own world.”

Her nose wrinkled. “You can’t magic this life into something different.”

Irritation rose. Sometimes she was that same foolish, naïve girl. “It does not require magic, Sarah. It requires a decision. A wish. That is all.”

 “Wishes can cut both ways, Jareth. They can motivate you and make you ungrateful for the things you still have.” She shook her head. “I never want to take anything in my life for granted again.”

 “Again?”

Her eyes clouded, straining to see something he couldn’t. “A few years ago, I...lost something. I’ve never found it again. But I know that I had made a choice to forget it. And no magic in the world can bring it back.”

 “I doubt you even tried.” He wouldn't allow himself to give in to that tiny niggling of hope. He couldn't bear the disappointment.

"You don't understand," she commented, turning her head away to look past him, out the window at the sunset. "What a pity."

The words echoed in his mind, mocking him. "Help me to understand."

"I can't," she said simply. "I don't think anyone could understand me except for him..."

"Who?"

Her smile was feminine mystery and dark amusement and such brilliant, painful understanding.

"The Goblin King."

He couldn't draw breath. Time stilled as she turned her head and looked at him with a piercing gaze. "I wish he were here right now."

_He is._

His mouth was dry. "And if he was? What would you wish?"

Her smile dimmed and she gave a miserable, broken laugh.

"Sarah, tell me–"

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Do not defy me." An imprecation. A warning. A plea.

Spoken so softly. "I wish I could remember him."

Words were powerful. Words were binding. His oath held. He was her slave.

His voice was husky. "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered–"

She stiffened. Looked at him with clear eyes.

"I have fought my way here to this hospital beyond the Goblin City, to take back the life you stole from me."

Were those tears in her eyes?

"For my will is as strong as yours. My kingdom as great."

She reached for his hand, clutched it, squeezed it as if she feared he would vanish from her sight again. "You have no power over me," she finished, her voice barely a whisper.

He lifted her fingers to his lips. "Oh, my precious thing, that is where you are wrong."


End file.
